


Nazi Zombie Army 2

by ToAStranger



Series: Rage Quit [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Humor, Implied Video Game Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica and Isaac have an afternoon in with Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nazi Zombie Army 2

When Erica knocks on the front door of the Stilinski home, she isn’t expecting Stiles’ father to open up looking like he’s been up since the crack of dawn with a baby or perhaps a wild animal.  She shares a look with Isaac, who just seems supremely amused, and steps inside when the Sheriff gestures them in.

“Mr. Stilinski,” she greets with a bright smile; lips a hot, plastic pink that contrast sharply with the white of her teeth.  “We weren’t—“

“Stiles in the living room?” Isaac asks, already toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his coat.

Erica scowls at him, but the Sheriff nods with a heavy sigh.  “He’s been playing some zombie thing since four this morning.”

“Awesome,” Isaac grins and heads out of the foyer and toward the family room. 

Erica’s lips purse tight, and she eyes the Sheriff’s uniform.  “Off to work?”

“For the night,” he nods.  “Try not to cause too much havoc.”  

“Not to worry, Mr. S.” Erica winks and starts following after Isaac’s scent.  “There’s no big bads hanging around these parts this week.  Just an easy night in.”

The Sheriff sighs again.  “Which makes sense as to why he’s so wound up.”

“Wound up?”

“He gets very… passionate about his games when there isn’t something else to keep him occupied,” the Sheriff pulls on his jacket and adjusts his belt.  “Lacrosse season is over.  Which means a lot more of—“

“ _Goddamn it!”_ echoes up from the living room.

“…that.” The Sheriff scowls.  “Language, young man!”

“Sorry!”

The Sheriff waves a hand and heads for the door.  Erica calls a fleeting goodbye before finally stalking into the living room to find Isaac piled into a chair, watching Stiles mow an army of skeletons down with precise sniper shots. 

The setup is pretty choice.  Stiles has the game running on the TV screen, and he’s set up on the couch with a controller in his hand, headphone lopsided and on one ear so that he can speak into the mic.  There’s junk food littered all around his feet and on the coffee table, and the distinct smell of cheese puffs is in the air.

She frowns, blinks at the screen, and then puts her hands on her hips.  “Stiles Stilinski, are you playing Nazi Zombie Army without me?”

“Babe!” Stiles beams over at her brief enough to get hit once and then mutter a stream a curses as he kites around a kamikaze zombie.  “Not without you, really.  I invited you over.”

“And yet, here you are, playing.  Without me.”

Isaac’s brows pinch.  “I didn’t know you played anything but CoD.”

“I’m a diverse creature,” Erica replies primly, and plops onto the couch next to Stiles.

Stiles nudges her knee with his.  “We’ll set up after this round.  Promise.”

“Fine.”

 “They made the Preacher a secondary in this game, which I really like.”  Stiles tries, and then rapidly grows tense as he and his team go running out onto a dock.  “Fuckfuckfuck _fuck_.”

“Watch out for the—“

“ _FUCK_ ,” Stiles jerks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing on the screen.  “I gotcha, Johnny boy.  Suzy, some cover fire would be fucking great right about now.”

A girl’s voice crackles over the sound of gunfire and the groans of the undead.  “ _Nading the big guy right now, dude_.”

“ _There’s suicide guys, man.  Get outta—“_

“I’m not leaving you!” Stiles shouts, creeping forward, and pulls his double barrel, aims, fires and blows the Elite’s head clean off.  “Holy—“

“—shit!” Erica’s slaps his legs, probably a bit too hard, but Stiles and his teammates are too busy whooping and hollering to notice.

“Get fucking _Preached_!” Stiles laughs, and from his spot, Isaac rolls his eyes.  

  _“JESUS CAME OUT OF YOUR GUN!"_  The other boy crows, high on the tantalizing closeness of victory, through the line.  “ _It was like_ _a fucking clown flying out of a canon at a circus!  Preacher, coming on strong, Jesus fucking Christ!”_

“ _Save that ammo for the next round.”_ Suzy mutters, already clearing more zombies off of the dock as Stiles finishes reviving their downed man.  “ _Great fucking one shot, bro.”_

Cackling, still a bit high on the shot, Stiles shakes his head and tries aiming for some of the more distant zombies for extra points.  “I can’t even shoot straight right now, my balls are so sweaty.”

“ _Get some of that baby powder, bro.  Works like a goddamn charm, I’m telling you_.” John replies, and both Isaac and Erica’s noses wrinkle. 

* * *

 

“Shut up, it’s a cut scene!” Stiles grumbles and Erica bites the inside of her cheek.  “WWRBD?”

“What the fuck?” Erica huffs, but she’s smiling as they trail through a dilapidated factory, Stiles’ spare controller in her hands. 

“What Would Rad Brad Do,” Isaac supplies behind a long pull from his drink.  “Oh, shit.  Ammo box.  That means shit’s about to go down.”

Erica doesn’t bother asking who the hell Rad Brad is. 

She’s far too busy being distracted by the Elite Zombie that’s, y’know, _on fire_.  Next to her, Stiles grits his teeth.

“This level is _not_ fucking around,” Stiles mumbles.

“ _Good thing you put that baby powder on_ ,” John cackles over the speakers.

Stiles snorts.  “Otherwise it would be like the swamps of Dagobah down there, right now.  My dick is like—“ he laughs “—like Luke’s fucking X-Wing.”

“What?  You have to concentrate really hard to get it up?” Erica chirps, and Stiles elbows her. 

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too, batman.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Suzy sighs.  “ _I’m surrounded by children_.”

Isaac grunts his agreement.

* * *

 

“ _Thank_ fuck _for a safe room_ ,” Suzy huffs.

Erica is already going for the nearest ammo box, if only to get the annoying orange scrawl of _LOW AMMO_ off of her screen.

“Alright, rub your dicks on everything!” Stiles calls as they all reload by running by and brushing up against the open boxes. 

Isaac nearly coughs up his Dr. Pepper.

“ _Speaking of dicks_ ,” Suzy purrs and both John and Stiles let out matching groans, as if they already know what to expect.  “ _Stiles, it’s your turn to answer.  Sorry Erica.  Don’t know you well enough.”_

“Color me definitely not offended,” Erica grins.

“Ask away, Quizmaster.”

“ _Would you suck Satan’s dick if he promised you unimaginable riches?”_

Stiles answers without a single ounce of hesitation.  “Yes.”

“ _Wait_ ,” John cuts in as they huddle around the exit door for the checkpoint.  “ _What—Like, what’s the condition?  Is his dick like, six feet long?  What are we talking about?”_

Scoffing, Stiles shakes his head.  “I’d suck that big, fiery, red cock even if I wasn’t getting riches.”

They all burst out laughing despite Stiles’ complete seriousness. 

“I’d do it just for fun,” he adds.

“ _And on that note_ ,” John heads out of the safe room and onto the next section, already taking headshots.  “ _I literally think I need Jesus, right now, with all of this Satan beej talk_.”

“I think I need Jesus too.” Isaac buries his face in his hands.

“I am gonna burn in hell,” Stiles grins.  “For _ever_.”

“Yes,” Erica nods.  “Yes, you are.”

Chuckling over the rampant laughter of their teammates, Stiles affects a deep Mr. Moviephone voice.  “This summer, one man will suck Satan’s dick until he’s… _overcome_.”

“Stiles!”

**Author's Note:**

> *Dialogue inspired by Mr. Sark.


End file.
